The Secret Book of Bemnal the Fallen
by BemnalTheFallen
Summary: A collection of Lovecraftian horror shortfics told from first person POV. Each a dark a tale of impossibility, terror, and insanity; a tale... without a happy ending. Funny... Equestria seemed such a lovely and peaceful land to live in. But beyond the smiling sunny faces of the ponies therein, impossible horrors beckon the innocent to their doom. And they harkon to it.
1. Blood

The Secret Book of Bemnal the Fallen

A collection of Lovecraftian horror shortfics told from first person POV. Each a dark a tale of impossibility, terror, and insanity; a tale... without a happy ending. Funny... Equestria seemed such a lovely and peaceful land to live in. But beyond the smiling sunny faces of the ponies therein, impossible horrors beockon the innocent to their doom. And they harkon to it.

***Disclaimer***  
I do not own My Little Pony Friendship is Magic nor do I have any affiliations to it, its producers, or its benefactors and make no money off of this work of fiction. Please support the official release.  
***Disclaimer***

**************************warning***************** ***********

Swearing.

Clop.

Gore.

Disturbing Imagery.

****************************warning*************** ***********

Chapter I, Blood

-_Temptress in the dead of night, stalking the weary and unsespecting. So little a stallion thinks before being careened off the precipice of the abyss into the deapths of depravity and suffering waiting unambiguously stoic, and palpable with its hunger for the flesh of yet another woe-stained soul hurtling into the cold disgusting arms of a rotting flesh covered horror, and it welcomes... oh it welcomes you with a smile of blistered lips and cracked teeth. And upon the mark of the dark grave, you think... you inaugurate an elected opinion that yes, death is prefferable to meeting the embrace of this nameless thing of the most abstract disturbia; for this, is a word so simple and commonly used by the young and innocent. Monster. You have been lured into a trap by a monster. You poor pitiable little rat. Beg for the metal of the trap to snap your neck, for the cat that leers from beyond the dirge of the veil will only bring the wish that it had._- excerpt from _the Secret Book of Bemnal the Fallen_

What is my name? Such a silly thing to ask one might say upon the cold eve of a dark and steam filled night, the mist of sewers within Manehattan filling the air with a stench of the cesspools contained intrinsically within the network of filth and putrid left overs of our indulgent and fat society.

Our world, so ravenous in its hunger, so filled with greed and lust, and pride, and want. So much want. So much hunger, never enough; even there within the flux of the delinium of our depravity ever declining, descending, plummeting 'ere further and further to greater deapths; findind ever more ways to increase our sloth and demean the honor of our ancestors.

This is our legacy. A society of shoping malls, fatening greesy food, faked wrestling matches and Wonderbolts. Arenas and TV, radio and flickering lights.

Our fight or flight society based soley upon the notion of never enough, of never slowing down; ever progressive, ever forward, a reflection therein, of our mighty solar goddess, Celestia showcases the perversion of us, here and now, within her blatant dispalys of avarice. Luxurious palaces and servants abound; the aristocracy survives, prepared for anything. While the majority of us die and wither, and sicken, and rob, and murder, and rape, and lie, and cheat, and steal, and fight, and swindle, and backstab.

We are poison. Our society is poison. We are irrationality. We are weak.

We deserve to be purged. I know this. I knew this the day I met her. The day I met... them...

The day I realized the truth of my species, the day I saw just how small and pathetic, and insignificant our planet is in the grand scheme, how tiny we are in the cosmos; and how hopeless our fight for survival is when the Sleepers allow us to exist merely by their indiference.

For if He Who Sleeps Beneath the Sea, stirrs in his slumber, our world ends. We linger on the edge of armegeddon every day; and yet, we move on from cycle to cycle, robotic and void of purpose. Void of knowledge, void of all but ignorance.

We act based upon the customs of our society, but them? The ones from before time, the ones from before the universe? The ones so old, so massive, so powerful that Celestia, and Luna, and Discord, and all the pathetic sky gods of our tiny infentisimal world are nothing but puny insects.

All my life I'd feared Celestia. I'd been devout as a young colt... but no more. I became afraid of her with my horrible choices in life, fearful that her wrath would rain down upon me. But no more.

Now, I laugh. I laugh at her pathetic claim to godhood, I laugh at her insignificant powers; her parlour tricks disguised as divine governence.

There are no gods. There is no paradise or Tartarus, there is nothing. We are born, we live, we age, and we die. And all in the blink of an eye. We are nothing. And the Sleepers know this. They know better than anypony. Than anything.

They have purpose. They have reason to exist. They simply act as what is their nature. They may be viewed as good or evil, but they are neither. They simply are. They live. They live for so long, they are so large... and their influence makes us look like trained monkeys. We are nothing to them. It was coincidence that some of them came to our planet. Some of them ignore us, others influence our society for entertainment. They would raise an entire world order from a bunch of primitave cave-ponies and tear it all down in an apacolypse out of boredome. Our entire world.

Our entire existence, families, lives, years upon years of history; and all of it was merely a game.

And then there are the smaller beings. The one like her... the one that I met... not an ancient and all-powerful being but... something old, and beyond me. Something that had been here for longer than ponykind. The Sleepers brought many... things... with them.

And they have lived on our planet for so long.

So long...

So long...

And we have no idea.

I was at a bar and the night I met her I think... I was eating... and drinking... I was... an loan shark... ya... if ponies didn't payback their loan; I'd rough them up; or kill them.

I'd done a lot worse then that though, I've murdered little whores on the street, prostitutes who were far too pretty for thier own good, I killed them. I fucked them and I killed them. And I enjoyed it.

I was a stallion who's life was drowning in blood. Ironic then; that she walked into my life on that day. And ended it. In blood.

Blood.

She came, a mint green mare with a two-tone mane, golden eyes and a cutie mark of a lyre; accompanied by a milky pale white mare with a cotton-candy mane and a bon bon cutie mark.

Lyra and Bon Bon.

They seemed so normal.

They sat at the bar with me. They talked to me. I was... happy. They were pretty... I didn't like that. Mare's have no right to be so pretty. They should be ugly. So I make them ugly, I cut them open and showere them in their own blood. Then they aren't pretty any more. I make them right. I'm doing them a favor.

But I was still happy. Even if I didn't like how pretty they were, I still like them. Looks aren't everything, they were nice. Bon Bon was funny, charming even; despite her constantly shifting voice. Lyra was quirky, kept discussing things about 'hands' but she knew oh so much of music. And I love music dearly I do.

We drank for hours. Hours. And Hours.

The bar closed and we had to leave. They invited me to their abode, I accepted. As much as I enjoyed their company, I just couldn't let their beauty go unpunished. I needed to beat them, to fuck them, to pound their pussies and cut them open and break their noses and shatter their jaws, I needed to make them ugly. I needed to violate them and cum in their asses, I needed to make them feel ugly.

I had to, if not me, then who else? I was going to help them I was. I was doing them a favor.

It didn't matter if they didn't pay me back. That's OK. I wan't in it for the reward, I just felt obligated to be a good samaratin. They showed me inside.

They giggled and made out for me; they touched each other and kissed, and licked, and probed. They made me hard, they made me excited. But that's what she wanted. That's what Lyra wanted. She wanted me hard, she wanted me excited, she wanted my heart racing. She sucked my cock while Bon Bon ate her out; her tongue was of expert training, but expert was she also in teasing; for she never let me finish. No, that wouldn't do, then my heartrate would go down. Can't have that.

My heart rate needs to be up... so that my blood is pumping. So that she can access it at its height.

And so, she stepped away and laughed. I asked her what was so funny. She smiled at me. Such a... disturbing smile... the same kind I gave to all those mares I... I...

...

...

The same kind I gave to all those mares that I... did... horrible things to.

I knew that smile. I'd worn that smile. I'd seen my collegues use that smile while they violated young colts and fillies in parties thrown by the rich and corrupt ponies who kept underage love slaves chained up in their mansions for private events with the criminal underworld.

How old was that filly that I'd... oh... I can't even recall all the things I did to her... she was... she was... seven... seven years old. So tiny, so cute... so... so... pretty... so fucking pretty... I hated her so much. I made her bleed, everywhere; from all holes, and from the bruises I left on her as she cried and begged for me to stop hurting her.

She pleaded... she pleaded, said she'd do anything, she'd do anything I wanted, fulfil any fantasy and make me cum as many times as I wanted if I'd only stop hurting her.

Eventually, she started to crawl away from me on broken legs. That made me even more mad; here I was trying to do her a service by crushing that disgusting beauty and she's trying to run from me?! I admid, I lost my cool. I killed her. I snapped her neck. That was wrong. I wasn't supposed to do that. I was supposed to beat her to death after cutting her up some more. Make her more ugly before I sent her on her way.

But I was just so... so angry! I didn't think for a moment... about how she felt... I didn't wonder what was going on in her mind...

And as Lyra smiled at me like I smiled at that filly, I wonder... does she know what's going on in my head? Does she care? Does she have even the most idle wondering... as to how I feel? To what I'm thinking?

I felt... scared... why? Why was I scared of these two mares? How many pretty bitches had I ripped open? How much blood is on my hooves? Why... why am I scared...

I couldn't move for a fear more primal than that of a foal's terror of the dark gripped my heart. I couldn't move. I... I just couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. That... that evil smile became my whole world; it consumed me. It raped me and devoured me whole.

I started sobbing, I fell to the ground; collapsing under my incompetent hooves and wept in terror and hoplessness. And as I cried, Lyra changed. Her limbs grew longer and longer, they became spinkly like spider legs with a tough green exoskelatin, for long and powerful legs. Her tail became a stream of five green tendrils that hang limp like a cat 'o nine tails.

Her neck stretched, cracking as the spine grew more bones and disks; it extended and widened until an entire thorax was added, sitting atop the front half of her body like some kind of half-human-half-horse centaur from the legends of Roam.

Her legs were chitenous, but her body and human-esqe torso were slimy and squishy; covered in a thin sheen of oil. Her maw elongated into something of a beak; also hardening like the keratin of a hoof; and her eyes... oh those unholy golden eyes... became like the cat-slit pupils of Nightmare Moon herself.

With a gutteral squak, to long gangly arms sprouted from either side of her human-torso sending bouts of puss splattering upon the ground. And upon the hands of those arms, were five long didgits each; long flexible tenticals; the suction cups flexing as the five 'fingers' wreathed around oneanother.

Her horn elongated and sharpened. Bat wings sprouted from her back spewing forth more putrid puss filling the air with a pungunt vomit inducing scent. I emptied my bowels. I looked around and noticed dozens of dead stallions; how had I not seen them before?

All of them... sliced open, beaten... drained of blood... destroyed... ugly... all of them... crushed and destroyed like the mares I'd desecrated...

Was this... was this demon like me? Did it see me the same way I saw those mares? In a moment of hysteria, I laughed, I laughed that there was another monster out there; albiet one that was surely going to end me, that I could identify with.

Bon Bon also changed. She opened her mouth and an eye popped out with the beginnings of five tendrils attatched to it. One tendril shot out and Bon Bon's left front hoof went limp. Another shot out and her right front hoof went limp. Another and another, her hind legs collapsed. The last tendril shot out and Bonbon's head went limp.

The tendrils became spider legs and the eyeball was lifted out of the the socked of the starfish-spider by a series of smaller tendrils; the eye looked at me with a series of clicks.

Where was I... what was... this isn't real...

Lyra picked me up with one hand crushing my throat, her long slimy cold tenticle fingers wrapped around my neck and began squeezing like a boa constrictor; I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. My hooves pawed uselessly at the centaur. It laughed in a crackly unnatural voice.

It's tenticles from the opposing hand latched onto my left front leg; the suction cups securd onto the flesh before she pulled away with such force that the suction cups tore chunks of my skin off.

I screamed and cried, blood sputtered out.

I whimpered. Another round of the scourge gouging out parts of my body; I screemed again.

It went like that for minutes... or maybe hours... I couldn't tell. I begged. I pleaded, I cried for help. I sounded just like all those mares I'd destroyed.

I was weak. I was scared. I was dying. But I was waking. Yes, waking to the truth! The truth of the Sleepers! For this is their glory! This is their mighty legacy! Such fantastical beings as Lyra who can take monsters like me who have claimed the lives of so many and tear me down to nothing! Yes... this is their glory... this is their uglines... this... is perfection.

I was being turned into the very art I sought so much. Oh praise the Sleepers. Prais them! I wish I could live to the day when they awaken. To see their glory as the world ends in fire and madness, and fear!

But for now, Lyra tears my foreleg off, I vomit from trauma and system shock as the muscles are torn from their appropriate ligaments. I cry, I sputter, I piss myself, I empty my bowels, my severed bone sticks out from my torso; mangled and destroyed.

It's... so ugly... so wonderful... thank you Lyra. Thank you.

I think... I think she was the first and only mare I've ever loved...

Bon Bon, or what ever had crawled out of her, scuttled under neath me and bathed in my blood before falling over and making a series of satisfied clicking sounds. I bearly registered Lyra tearing my body apart. Always inflicting major damage, but never outright allowing me to die.

Finally, she dropped me on the floor, scooped up my blood, and drizzled it upon her face.

She spoke and said, "Blood... yesssss... bloooooddd..." in a raspy two-tone voice. It made me shiver. Or that might have been my body going into shock. Either way, she approached me. She squeezed my severed limbs like oranges to harvest the juices within.

I found the strength to say one word... one word only... I needed to ask it. I needed to validate my wonderings; was she like me? did she kill for the reasons I kill? I looked up into that monster's eyes... and I spoke one word, "why?"

She looked at me... with an almost... curious expression... and then, she said, "it's... good..."

My face twisted in confusion as well as pain. She clarified, "Blood... it's... good..." in this state, her words were wild, non pre-meditated, and sloppy, almost like a child was speaking. Perhaps she was a child... perhaps she was just a little filly monster. And I? Just a toy for her to play with and pull apart on a whim.

"Blood... it's... goood... it... feels... goood..."

that still left me confuzed. I pleaded with my eyes for her to elaborate for I had not the strength to speak again.

She did break it down further, "Chemicals... pony... blood... has... chemicals... they... make... me... feel... gooooood..." She scooped up another puddle of my blood and bathed in it, slathering her slimy skin in the crimson viscous liquid.

So that was it... she was getting high... on pony blood. She was not a philosophical serial killer like myself, she was not a monster compelled to kill by a higher power, she was not a demon that devoured the flesh and souls of poor naíve stallions like myself. She was just... a junky...

And that's it. My reign of terror on the mares and fillies of Manehattan ends... because a monster wanted to shoot up... on my blood.

I died.

My head fell to the floor and my vision faded.

I don't know how much time passed. Eventually, I awoke again. I looked up and saw a strange being.

He looked... well... he had the shape of a human from the myths. Bipedal, two legs, two arms, hands and fingers. But hooves were in place of feet, and from his forhead there was a long sharp black horn. Two large black pegasus wings folded behind his back.

HIs hooves and legs were covered in black plate mail, each sharp jagged plate tinted with a dark blood red around the edges. His torso covered by a black hooded trench coat secured closed with a black and red belt, the black coat trimmed with red edges. Long sleaves ended to meet hands and fingers that were covered in the same black and red plate mail as his legs and hooves.

Even the fingers were armored, right down to the finger tips being sharpened like claws, the red tips giving them the appearance of the black metal stained with blood.

And perhaps oddest of all, was his hood; covering a face that simply wasn't there. There were two large bulbous red eyes like those of a pony, large, angled, shapely and sharp at the corners. Void of any eyelashes, any eyelids, any pupils, any iris, andy white of the eye, just two... large... glowing... crimson... eyes...

His mouth consisted of a long line of seraded shark-like teeth; at first, I thought he was grining with his lips bearing his teeth. But when he spoke, the teeth moved like a pony's lips would move, they flexed, contracted, and twisted like muscles and I realized then that the teeth ARE his lips.

He had no face aside from those red eyes and seraded teeth. No nose or maw or cheeks or skin. The entirety of his 'face' was not hidden by the darkness underneath his hood. It just... wasn't there... there was no face. Just... blackness...

He approached me, and spoke with a voice that was not of this world; filled with three voices speaking nearly simultaneously with only a slight lag from the third voice, each a different tone and pitch; but all distorted and scratchy, all deep and resonating. When he spoke, I soiled myself and wanted to rip my ears off with my bear hooves if only to spare myself from hearing such an unholy and unnatural sound. That voice... did not belong in this world... did not belong in this universe. It did not belong in this reality. It was... unnatural... it... it wasn't right... but still... it spoke, "_I... am Bemnal..._"

I weapt and vomited. I found that I had my hooves back and scuttled around for something, anything, I found a knife in the kitchen, I ran for it; I grabbed it, and I cut my ears off; I could still hear the ringing of that evil voice in my head, even after my self inflicted mutilation.

But he continued to speak. And still, I could hear, with no ears and blood pouring from my head, I could still hear him speak in that blasphemous voice. I bore witness to a crime against nature as this... thing... talked to me.

"_You are alive..._" he stated rather simply, almost... bored... like stating that the sky was blue.

I looked down at myself to see that I was indeed very much alive. And yes, I was very much whole.

I looked up, and he was in front of me. He'd traveled the space of some fifteen hooves in but a second; with no steps, no, he didn't move. He just ceased to exist at one point in space, and existed anew in another point.

Lyra... I was afraid of Lyra... but this thing... this Bemnal... I hated him... His presence felt... wrong. Like an insult to everything I knew, like an insult to all of creation.

I couldn't control myself, I screamed at him, just a long ear piercing scream of fury; I stood there for a minute, refilling my lungs whenever they emptied, just... screaming at him.

He stood there. Patiently, stood. Taking the full force of my insanity. For I had gone mad at this point. Being torn apart by a centaur and used as a drug tends to do that to you.

Eventually, my throat got too sore. I panted...

Silence passed... I walked over to Lyra's bed and sat upon it.

Bemnal remained where he stood; facing where I'd previously been. And then, he was gone. And he was next to me; also sitting on the bed, with his head turned to me.

It was... disturbing how he just... sat there... no movement, no breathing, no... nothing... not even the smallest microscopic movement. Frozen like a statue.

Except for his mouth... those lips of daggers were the one thing that allowed me to cling so desperately who the tattered remains of my sanity.

And in that short moment of clarity... I asked him. I asked him the same thing I asked Lyra, "why?"

What was I asking 'why' about? I don't think I knew. But he still answered regardless.

"_Because... I... was bored._" he answered. I shivered. Not from the voice; I'd vented my hatred at his abomination of an existence, and all that remained was a stubborn disdain; like the annoyance at an insect buzzing around, always too quick for you to swat it porperly.

No, I shivered because of his answer. He was bored? What kind of an answer was that?... what question was he answering?

"_I awoke... because... I am bored... I was... bored... of... sleeping... like... the others... but... I... am... awake..._"

I chewed on my lip uncomfortably. I suppose in any other circumstance I would scoff at such incoherant babble. But... this... thing... this Bemnal was... too... too... powerful... too... not right with the universe, to disregard; his words, spoken in that sinful voice held weight.

Of course, I knew not what he was reffering to at the time. Had I known, I would have kissed his hooves. Had I known back then about the Sleepers...

And Lyra... oh Lyra... I wish I could see her again... I wish I could watch her tear me apart...

Bemnal continued to stare stoiclally in his frozen enigma of a statue body for several more minutes before speaking again, "_you are... alive... Because I was bored... I wanted you... alive... So you live... I want... to see... your mind... it's... broken and... i like... to hear... the stories... of broken minds... to hear... their words... To hear you words... to know your story... Tell me... a bedtime... story madfpony... give me a tale... to put me to... sleep_."

And then, he was gone. I knew not what he was speaking of at the time; but... well... I was alive. I was confuzed... and scared... I left the building.

...

...

I went mad.

...

...

I searched. I searched fiction and tabloids, I interviewed ponies with old wive's tales; I searched and searched and searched for as much information as I could.

I've pieced quite a bit together. I don't know it all; I know so little in fact... but I know enough. Stories about them... about the Sleepers... stories... legends... bedtime... stories... I found them... the stories... the legends, the tales, the prophecies; from all different parts of the word; I found bits and pieces... I know... I know enough . I know enough to love the Sleepers.

Oh I love them. I praise them. I worship them. I no longer waste beautiful mares on myself, I sacrifice them to the Sleepers. I don't know if that's what they want or not; but it's the only thing I can give them. Blood. That's all I can offer... just... blood. I spill it upon ancient runes that I drew from forbidden spell books.

I don't... know... if the Sleepers like blood.. or if its only.. the... things... like Lyra... or if its only Lyra herself... I just

... I just don't know.

But I hope.

I pray.

I pray that the blood reaches the Sleepers. That they get high from its chemicals. I pray that they like my gift. I love them so much. Praise the Sleepers.

PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS!

When... when did they enter my mind? I think... I think when Bemnal spoke... it... let something into my mind... I see things... I hear things... even without my ears; I can still hear a little bit... I needed ponies to write what they wanted to say on paper but...

But there are times when I can just... hear... hear... hear _them_

Hear the Sleepers... Praise them. Praise the Sleepers.

They... are... so old... so ancient... yet; they are like foals. Pure... instinct...

Even... even those with higher intelligence like Bemnal... even the Sleepers like him are... are... innocent... they are all innocent... they act like foals... they... they act as they were made to act. They simply do as they have always done. And they never stop dion as theey have always done. They have purpose.

To simply, be.

And for them. Such beings of power that would shame elder gods... they... for beings of such power and such ancient age, and of such immature, innocent, and... simple... but impossibly complex minds...

it's enough... to simply exist is enough for them.

And that is why wer are imperfect. We cannot simply be, we must always be more; we must always have more. We are never content. The Sleepers are content. Always content. They are perfect.

Yest, so perfect.

Ugly, disgusting, horrifying, madness, insanity, genocide, apacolypse... they are... pefect... I love them.

I love them so much. They are so old but so young. Older than the universe but still children. So powerful, so strong. So intelligent but so innocent and dumb. So old.

Yes... Yes.. so old, so perfect, so young, so complex, so smart, so stupid, so simple, so complex. so perfect, so broken.

Perfect

yes, lovely, ultimate

Perfect

I love them, so complete, so whole, so fragmented.

Perfect.

Praise them, Praise the Sleepers.

...

...

...

They're here...

...

...

The police...

...

...

...

I refuse...

...

I refuse to let them take me. To take me way from my precious mares and fillies... to take me away from my studies... to take me away from... from the Sleepers...

No...

..

...

...

I refuse.

_I... saw him... the stallion, he stood... atop a... stool with a rope around... his neck... He kicked out the chair from under him... and dangled... He spasmped... jerked... around, and even clawed at his neck... as if deciding... to change his mind at... the last minute... But it was too late...for that..._

_He died... Face blue and tongue... swollon..._

_The guards came in... they stormed the place... They searched..._

_But they did not look at his desk..They did not look at me... I did not want them to see me... I did not... want them to see the desk... So they did not... I... do not... exist... and... the desk did... not... exist... you can't see.. what... doesn't... exist... so the guads did... not... see me.. and did not see... the desk... letters... on the desk... words that he wrote..._

_I read everything that he wrote... I... liked... it..._

_I... liked... him... he... told me... a... story..._

_A... bedtime story... of... horror... and... monsters... and... impossible... things... he... told me a..._

_Bedtime... story... and... I liked that... another... story... for my... secret... book.._

_And I... liked.. it..._

_So... I... I..._

_I..._

_I..._

_I... _

_..._

_..._

_I sleep... I sleep... I sleep..._

_Unti...l another story... calls me awake..._

_But... not... now..._

_Now... I am... tired..._

_Now... I... sleep..._

_One... last... thing... written... on... his... notes..._

_Priase... the... Sleepers..._

_PraiseTheSleepersPraiseTheSleepersPraiseTheSleeper s..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_Praise... the... Sleepers._

_..._

_..._

_I am tired..._

_..._

_Goodnight._..


	2. He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness

Chapter II, He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness

-_how long does one seek to dwell within a society of peace and harmony? How long do we fool ourselves into the idiotic notion that Equestria is a land of ecstacy, rainbows, and sunshine? Occasionaly there are them, the ones, in the dark, who cling to the weak and foolish; among them, the fools, who cling to the idylic notion of peach and love. The magic of friendship does not stop serial killers and wild animals; it does not stop crime and poverty, and sickness, and plague, and hurricanes, and earthquakes... it does not stop... a motel... where you can check in, but never check out._- excerpt from _the secret book of Bemnal the Fallen_

I... I am... I am Cream Cheese... a white Pegasus mare with a golden mane and amber eyes... my marefriend, Tulip, a purple Unicorn with a pink swirly mane...

We just... wanted a vacation...

How many days do we spend lazing away within our society? Our days filled with trifling worries; did I leave the stove on? I forgot my keys, oh on I missed so and so's party... these make up the whole of our lives. To us, the normal ponies, a tragedy is something trivial; and so, to fall into the world of them, the Dreamers; to whome, a tragedy is impossibilty to us, the normal ponies.

The Dreamers... I shudder at the thought of those... things...

I used to read a few documents published by a madpony, he went by the name Hard Hoof; most discredited his findings as the works of a raving lunatic. He spoke of ancient horrors, an infectious madness that spread like a disease. He spoke of beings older than the universe, yet, to their own kind, they are but children in their long and unimaginable lifespans.

They sleep... they... are the Sleepers... yes... I know that now...

And they... when they came to this world... so... so long ago... they brought... things... with them.

To call them aliens is almost insulting... aliens are little green ponies with giant heads. These things... these were... unnatural abominations... they... they just aren't right... they don't... they don't feel right... just to look upon them drives ponies to insanity.

They call themselves Dreamers... ones who came here with the Sleepers. They are not as old as the Sleepers; they are not nearly as powerful. But to us? The Dreamers are like demi-gods. The Sleepers are children, just young tired foals with the power of a thousands gods. But the Dreamers... the Dreamers are monsters, fully grown, intelligent, and... and... hungry...

At least, the ones I met were hungry.

Hard Hoof wrote about his own encounter with a Dreamer... one that went by the name of Lyra.

The Dreamers are... disgusting, grotesque, and unholy demons of the abyss. Like the Sleepers, they live in a world of dreams and stories. They sleep. But the Dreamers can awake of their own accord and they... they... they use us... like toys...

No two Dreamers are alike. they all have different... desires... some want to kill us, some want to mate with us... some want to eat us... some want to get high on our blood... some just want to torture us and hear our screems...

I want to say that there was a reason to it... I want to say that there's some purpose. That the Dreamers are alien cultists who worship the Sleepers and commit these ungodly acts against pony kind as some sort of ritual...

But I'd be lying. There is no purpose. They do it soley for the sake of entertainment.

They think... th-they think it's... fun...

they think it's fun to hurt us, and manipulate us, and rape us, and eat us, and kill us, and pit us against each other.

Almost ever major war in Equestria has been cuased by the Dreamers...

The Sleepers... the Sleepers need stories to help them dream. They need bedtime stories to calm their minds. For if they don't sleep. If they awaken, _truly_, awaken... then this world... will turn to ash.

...

...

In the old days, there were cults and religions and governments devoted to appeasing the Sleepers and Dreamers... to keeping them happy and entertained so that they don't... get annoyed with us... so that they don't get bored with us... because if they get bored... then they have no reason to stay here... and if they don't want to stay here, they have to leave... and in order to leave.. they need... to awaken.

And then, life will turn to death, light to dark. Our world ends. Our solar system is obliterated. Maybe even our entire galaxy will be devoured by the Sleepers... who knows... they've done it before. They've destroyed entire star systems in a fit of sleep deprived temper tantrums... it's... it's sad... they're not evil... they're just children... just cranky foals whining and fitful.

And in their temper tantrum, they obliterate entire worlds...

The Dreamers... follow them. Wherever they go. Nopony really knows why. Even they themselves aren't sure. It's just a compulsion. They feel like they _need_ to follow the Sleepers from world to world, from galaxy to galaxy.

...

...

How do I know all this?

...

...

It began with what was supposed to be a vacation...

It was dark, a night filled with rain and freezing air; Tulip and I were shivering when we arrived in Canterlot; there was a small motel just on the outskirts beneath the mountain on one of the entrance zones.

The dark oppressive visage of shadows and muck clung to the once enrapturing white stone of the city. I lookd around and I saw ugliness. Little did I know, this was the last bit of ignorance I would hold of beauty and grotesque imagry. But I did not know then. How could I?

It's funny... you think about how much of a tragedy it is to lose one's life... but when you really get down to it... is it so horrible? What would you have to go back to if you survived? Cheap microwavable food and TV...

That's all there is for us isn't there?...

...

...

So... I entered into that motel with Tulip... and I entered... into the realm of the Dreamers...

There are many Dreamers. Just as there are numerous Sleepers. Each Dreamer mirrors the Sleeper it follows. Hard Hoof encountered Lyra, a Dreamer who followed He Who Sleeps Beneath the Sea. And thus, Lyra's form reflected aquatic life.

But now? Now I was about to encounter He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness. He calls himself... Bemnal.

I entered that motel... I was greeted by a lovely Earth Pony mare with a tan coat and a chocolate mane... In fact, I recognized her as Octavia. To say I was surpised would be an understatement.

I was... well, I didn't really know how to feel about it one way or the other; I merely sputtered and she laughed informing me that she owned the place.

Shrugging, I decided not to argue with her and she showed me and my marefriend to our room. Once inside, we unpacked and thought about what she should do first. Perhaps go see a movie? Maybe see the sights around Ponyville?

I pondered and pondered...

A few nights passed before it happened...

There was a terrible storm; we weren't alowed to leave the motel. I should have known then... I should have known about what I would see

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAH MULIK AST FUN THINDRO ZAN PAAL GAMULIK F'TAGHN'GASTAL!

M'NKILUK'NEAL DUN DRAL KOGAAN UNI'TSUMINA!

AAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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...

...

Sorry...

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...

...

I haven't... really been myself... I have these... fits... where I just... I see... I hear... I know things that I shouldn't know... it's like the knowledge of a thousand life times just pours into my mind and I can't..

I can't...

*sob*

I can't handle it... I just... I just freak out and I start laughing hysterically and screaming in a language I've never heard before...

Well... anyway...

Tulip got lost... I looked around the motel for her... I searched for... hours... and.. it was then that I started to notice things that I hadn't before... little things.. like this one stallion who kept stalking me. How the wood was old and molded...

How only three ponies worked here... Octavia, Vinyl Scratch, and that weird looking stallion...

And maybe... just maybe... I would have noticed... that this wasn't a motel at all.. it was a tomb. And underground tomb...

And it was... s-so dark... I couldn't see anything. The hallways and doors were gone. The candels and lights were gone...

Everything was gone... everthing was... dark...

A fitting home for the Dreamers who follow Bemnal...

I busted through a door at some point... and there was light... a soft green light emiting within this large room from the walls... I was...

I was horrified at what I saw... Tulip, strung up high on the wall, her... oh gods... her torso was cut open like she was discected... her ribs were cracked open... her organs were missing... her eyes were missing... her throat was torn out... her stomach and waist were cut open...

She was... just... there... torn apart... right in front of me... and on the right and left walls adjacent to her's were a series of large canisters attatched to the wall each one a source of the green glow; each one containing an organ of Tulip's.

One with her voice box, another with her heart, another with her lungs, anothe with her vagina and womb, another with her stombac, another with her intestines; another with her eyes and tongue.

And all of the canisters filled with a green liquid were attatched via metal tubes to the plaque where Tulip's body hung like a butterfly pinned to the wall with various long needles. The most... disturbing part was... she was still alive...

Her heart still beat in the canister, her lungs still pumped as if breathing, her eyes moved as they floated around in the liquid. Her body... her body wreathed and shifted on those spikes and...

O-oh gods... I think...

*vomits*

Ugh...

I... *shudder*

I don't want to think about it...

I screamed... I screamed so loud and so long...

I turned to run; I bumped into Octavia and Vinyl Scratch... they didn't look happy.

"You should have stayed in your room." Octavia said in a tone that chilled my blood. I turned to run, but Vinyl's magic lifted me off the ground and slammed me into it; pinning me there.

I turned my head back and saw them... change... from Vinyl's hooves there sprouted claws... they scraped on the floor. Her body grew, stretched, and became skinny and gangly, her ears elongated and her eyes turned completely red. Her fur became a sleek dulled white; her claws became ebony... she stood up on two hind legs; she looked well, bat-like.

And then... Octavia changed... she two stood on two legs, her forehooves became as the three talons of an owl; her tan fur became as feathers, and her maw became more beak-like.

Her talon-hand gripped the back of my neck and picked me up. I struggled, I screamed, I beat my wings chaotically.

None of it helped. Vinyl's bat claws tore at my wings and severed them. Painfully.

I was on the verge of blacking out from the pain when that creepy stallion entered into the room; must've come to check what all the commotion was about. But he too changed before my eyes; he looked as that of a lycan, a ponywolf. Bones cracked and reformed as he changed.

I came to miss the all encompassing darkness of 'ere time... I came to miss my blissful insignificant existence. I cared not that my life was petty or wasteful. It was content. I was happy.

But now... no more.

Now I lived in a world where impossible horrors existed. How many others had succumed to these monsters? How many..

The wolf-pony said something to Octavia who gave a gutteral squak in response. Vinyl pitched in a series of screeches. They spoke to oneanother in some disgusting language comprising of unnatural sounds that no living creature should be able to make.

The Wolf-Pony said something to Vinyl Scratch who began spasming with repeated screeches that sounded like a bat had been set on fire. It took me a while to realize she was laughing.

Vinyl turned to Octavia and said something. Octavia shrugged and said something back.

Vinyl turned back to the Wolf-Pony and screeched a response. The Wolf-Pony seemed to ponder what she said for a few moments before nodding. Vinyl did a hoof pump or... claw pump... whatever and cheered in a fashion that looked disturbingly natural when thinking of her as the Unicorn Vinyl Scratch.

So even these abominations had language and interacted with one another just as we ponies do... interesting...

Octavia then tossed me to the Wolf-Pony who latched onto my tail with his mouth and dragged me off into the darkness; the last thing I saw was the green light of the canisters containing my chopped up marefriend before my world went pitch black.

...

...

I was alone...

...

With him.

I couldn't see him; there was no light to see him with.

He slammed me against the wall. I whimpered and curled up into a ball as I began to sob. The stinging from my dismembered wing muscles signaled the blood that was likely leaking down my back.

I could feel his breath, hot and rappid... I whimpered out, "wh-what do you w-want?"

And... in an unholy scratchy voice he responded, "iiiinnsssiiiiiideeee yyooouuuu..."

My legs were spread open, I was flipped onto my stomach... and raped.

I screamed, I thrashed, he tore at my already bleeding back with his claws everytime I struggled. He grabbed the back of my head and slammed my face into the stone floor smashing my maw and breaking my nose. I tried to kick at him with my hind legs, he broke my kneese. I tried to crawl with my forlegs, he smashed my hooves with his paws; the karatin exploded and pits of muscle, bone, and blood spewed forth, I couldn't see it, but I felt it. Eventually he got sick of my screaming and just hit me over the head; I went mercifully unconcious for the rest of it.

I woke up. I don't know how much time passed.

Everything was still dark... I got up, my whole body was sore. I felt dirty. On the inside... my vagina burned with an aching sting; my back felt like it was on fire with the claw marks. My forhooves were still bleeding. I slumped on my forleg's knees; my hind legs were still broken.

I dragged myself forward and hit something... bars... metal bars... I was in a cage.

I heard something stirr from nearby.

"H-hello?"

That wasn't my voice...

"Uh, is somepony there?" I asked.

"Oh thank Celestia! Please, get me out of here!" the voice pleaded.

"I... I can't... I'm in a cage..."

"O-oh... I'm... I'm sorry..."

We talked to one another for a few hours. Apparently she was a mare from Trotingham named Bright Bit who also came here on vacation with her son and husband. I asked her what happened to them... she didn't answer.

Remembering Tulip... I don't think I really wanted to know.

I don't know how much time passed, but eventually that Wolf-Pony came back. I heard Bright Bit's screams as he forced himself on her... and then came for me next...

Life went like that for... I don't know how long. I had no way to keep track of time. Days? Weeks?

...

...

Months...

...

must've been.

...

I could feel my belly begining to swell; I was pregnant with that... thing's... foal...

So was Bright Bit.

Eventually another mare appeared, I wondered how many cages there were...

At least the three of us had each other.

The other mare, Deep Seas, was eventually impregnated as well. My wounds had long since healed up, but I was crippled. My hind legs healed awkwardly without any casts or splints and my forehooves were now stubs. My back was proabably a mass of scars with two bumps where my wings used to be.

We kept hope alive with one another. We talked about what would happen when we escaped.

...

But we never did...

...

That's when the dreams started...

The thing growing inside me was... a Dreamer... like Octavia and Vinyl... and it was growing inside me... a part of me... and I could feel its mind inside my own.

So that's it... that's how I know so much... turns out being pregnant with a Dreamer lets you tap into their ancient knowledge...

Every time I spaz out... my head is flooded with memories... but I only retain bits and pieces afterwards... the Dreamers... each following a different Sleeper and reflecting the Sleeper they follow.

The Dreamers following He Who Sleeps Beneath the Sea look aquatic and squidlike. Like the Lyra creature that Hard Hoof encountered...

The Dreamers following He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness look like nocturnal creatures, hence the owl, bat, and wolf ponies I encountered..

The Dreamers following He Who Sleeps Among the Dead look like zombies and ghouls and vampires, and other revenants...

It's funny... I think now about all those legends and tales of fantastical horros.. and I wonder if they were inspired by the monsters of real life... by these Dreamers...

There are a few other Sleepers, but those three are all I can remember from the nightmares that this thing growing inside me haunt my dreams with.

You know... I wonder why the Dreamers follow the Sleepers... from what I can tell, it's not like they have a choice. They feel an overwhellming force that compells them to follow the Sleepers from planet to planet, and star system to star system. Settling down wherever there's life.

...

Wherever there's beings like ponies who can tell them stories...

...

That's all you need... you don't need magic, you don't need massive weapons that can annihilated planets... all you need to survive an encounter with them... is a story.

I see him sometimes... Bemnal... the Sleeper... He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness... glimpses... in the dark... here and there I see a face with no face; only teeth and red eyes, a hood, black and red plate mail, a black coat...

It's not really Bemnal I know... it's just his avatar...

He... Bemnal would crush this entire motel just by stepping on it... The Sleepers are... massive... collassal... larger than most planets... some are as large as entire galaxies... they shrung themselves so that they could fit on this planet... they can... change... things... reality... they can change the universe with just a thought. If they want to be smaller, then they're smaller. Plain and simple. They're... they're gods... they're as close to a god as this universe will ever see... and *giggle* th-they're just children... bilions of years old... and still children...

Even in their shrunken state; they're still as large as most metropolitan cities like Canterlot or Manehattan... but they have... avatars... images that get inside your head... you think your seeing them in front of you... a bipedal pony... sometimes a dragon... other times a changeling... but they're not really there... they sort of are but at the same time they're not; it's really confusing and our minds weren't meant to comprehend it...

The Dreamers... I feel them... inside my head... I feel like... I'm one of them... I can think like them... more and more every day.

Each day I hate that demon that violated me less and less... I think... I think soon I won't hate him at all.

My mind is... it's like it's being re-written... soon I think... I think I'll like the Dreamers... They're my brothers and sisters... yes... I love mr. Wolfy... he's my friend... I love Tavi and Vinyl and all my brothers and sisters AHAHAHAHAHAA I LOVE MY DREAMERS! I LOVE MY CHILDREN! I LOVE MY FAMILY! AHAHAHAHAHA

PRAI-No..

Nononono!

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I'm losing myself..

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...

...

Mom... Dad... I'm sorry I never got to see you before you died... I always regretted it... I could say that I was busy but... I guess I was just lazy... I kept thinking 'I can see them next week' and... well... you know how that goes... gosh our family is just a huge fucking cluster of procrastinators huh?

Heh... I love you mom and dad...

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P..

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Pr..

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Pra...

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Praise...

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Praise them...

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PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAA! MILUK'NGRASTAL INGK'LAKF'TAGN!

N'GSTAL PAAN ULK M'NGTH'THARN RO'CHOMECH NICK'GRASTL 'NGRASTL BYULK RYULK ZINDRO KOGAAN MU N'GRASTL!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS WITHIN THE DARKNESS! PRAISE BEMNAL! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS!

PRAISE BEMNAL...

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*sob*

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*hysterical sobs*

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Kill me.


	3. He Who Sleeps Among the Dead

Chapter III, He Who Sleeps Among the Dead

-_And so it was that the Sleepers entered into our world, and woe to those who dwell therein with he, and he, and him, and her, and she, and the others. The Sleepers are not many, and nor are they few. Are they family? Are they they merely the same race? Are they even of the same species? Three names continuously leap out at those who investigate the worldly knowledge of the Sleepers. Bemnal, He Who Sleeps Within the Darkness. Croth, He Who Sleeps Beneath the Sea. Grotimnos, He Who Sleeps Among the Dead. Woe to those who fall prey to the Dreamers that follow Grotimnos. For they find no peace in death._- excerpt from _the Secret Book of Bemnal the Fallen_

It... was... cold...

..

...

...

...

That's all I really remember... the cold... that shiver...

It was dark I was... I was so cold...

I... what... was... oh ya... I'm... I'm Dusty Dusk... I... I'm a grey Unicorn mare... I have a... a... faded... orange mane... like a setting sun...

...

...

But the sun had long since set... and... it was cold... I remember... oh ya... I remember... I was being dragged along a cage, rusted with the mildew and Celestia knows what else overcoming the pony-constructed contraptions of leisure and reconisance.

This is our folly, so focused are we on our luxuries that we fail to see the obvious out of place existentials of our day to day lives. You sit on your couch and you think you hear a voice... but... there's nopony there...

This happens to all of us... but we usually; we simply pay no heed to it. Because that's just how we are.

Funny... all those trivial things seemed so important...

but... none of that really matters now. Not now, not here... not... not in this cage... this cold metal cage filled with the desolate, weak, and crying. this cage filled with ponies who know; who simply KNOW that they won't see the sun rise tomorrow.

It's got that kind of aura about it...

So... where to start... well; I was foalknapped. Not sure when, I was walking along the streets of Manehatten; I heart a pony screem, I tried to help... the... things... attacking the pony turned to me.

Heh... suddenly I was the screaming one... heh... ya... funny...

...

...

...

...

*sob*

I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry, you probably don't find that very entertaining.

*shudder* well, anyway. They brought us to your resting place in the Badlands. A giant bone pit in the heart of a Necropolis filled with the unmarked graves of a hundred thousand soldiers from all walks of life; Ponies, Zebras, Griffons, Dragons, Diamond Dogs, the list goes on and one. In ancient times; the Badlands was used as a battlegrounds.

See, back then; Ponies and other beings practices such powerful magics that the only way to have a fair fight was to insure that neither side could obliterate the other's cities with their battlemages. So they'd come here to the Badlands where a magic hampering field prevents the use of spells.

And then they'd just duke it out.

That tradition was held throughout the world by many species. And countless wars were fought here... so many nameless dead... so many corpses... so many bones burried beneath the rotting dead of yet more fighters slaughtering in the name of honor or freedome.

How many beings are burried here I wonder? You'd probably know wouldn't you?

Well, either way, we arrived at the end of the line. We were directed towards a group of other metal cages and there it began. A group of ponies got out of the carriages dragging the cages wearing white leopord sking robes and carrying scythes. They all had some symbol branded into their heads; a pony eye. With a diamond shaped pupil.

Most of them were Unicorns; but not all. They went to the first cage in front of mine and dragged a pony out kicking and screeming. They brought her over to one of the unmarked graves where a series of growls were originating from.

And there, eyonder the whiping wind; they desecrated the dead and dug up the grave; from there... something... leapt out. A hideous corpse of a pony landed outside the grave.

I had no idea zombies were like this; it looked feral, hyper, fast. It sniffed the air and twitched sporatically as it searched for flesh to consume... it didn't have to look far. Suddenly it rushed one of the ponies and stopped just short of of tackling her when she held up her forehooves; each one covered by a long red sock.

The zombie twitched as it inspected the material of the clothing and twitched its head around before slinking away in indiferance; from that point on, it ignored the rest of the foalknappers as if they weren't there.

But... when he reached the mare the nappers took from the cage... it went berserk.

The nappers restrained the mare; holding her up on her hind legs and pinning her forelegs behind her back. She screamed; the zombie got up on two hind legs and grabbed the mare's hind leg with one of his forelegs before using the other to smash her knee.

The crunch of bone was... disgusting... he broke the other leg and with no means of defending herself; the mare screamed in agony and terror as the zombie came within inches of her. It bashed its hooves against her skull repeatedly until it cracked open; then he... he stuck his hooves inside and pried her skull open completely exposing her brain to the world.

Then... he ate...

...

...

...

I... I could hear the sound of his rotted mouth chewing her brai... oh... oh gods...

*vomits.*

A-and then... and then... the nappers chanted as he ate the rest of her...

Then... then when he was... done... he got woozy... he started to stumble but the ponies who I'm conviced are part of some kind of Necromancer Cult grabbed hold of him and gently guided him back to his grave.

Above the disturbed resting place; the zombie stumbled and hung its head; it looked as if it was a bout to... pass out... the Cultists layed the zombie to rest in the grave and burried him.

They chanted some more in a language I'd never heard before; I could roughly make out, M'NULK, PAAL MUTUUK N'GSTAL KGASTL N'GRAST K'VAST BORK AE DAEHL REHK ROK PAAL MANKINGL F'TNKL GRAAN, everything else sounded almost incomprehensible; I can't even replicate the sounds they made, it was almost like their vocal cords were replaced by those of another animal.

Then, a stallion who appeared to be the leader of the group spoke, "Sleep, great Dreamer, sleep among our lord, sleep with He Who Sleeps Among the Dead! Rest with the undying and unliving god Grotimnos! Sleep now in the quiet, soundless, visionless sleep of Death."

Then the whole group spoke in unison,

"

PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE THE SLEEPER GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE THEM! PRAISE THE DREAMERS WHO FOLLOW YOU IN DEATH! "

I'm not sure how many times they said that...

Anyway, when they were done; they moved on to the next pony... and the next... and the next... then they finished the whole cage... then they moved... to my cage...

But before they could reach me; a scream broke out... no... not a scream... a shout... a battlecry... I looked on in disbelief as Paladins from Celestia's Holy Order of Purging Light rushed into the Necropolis.

I'd heard about them; they were a faction of the Celestian Church who actively opperated outside the main cities; their job was to hunt down cults like this that worshiped false gods and practiced dark perversions of magic.

This was it! I was saved! I was so happy... so hopeful...

...

...

That hope didn't last long.

...

...

Because... that's when you showed up...

...

...

They started fighting... the Cultists and the Paladins. The Paladins had an obvious advantage; no magic was active within the Badlands for whatever reason; not even Clerical Magic could work. It was strange...

But these Necromancers were not Warriors; they had combat knowledge as much as any other form of light and dark Cleric; but the Paladins were Fighters first and foremost. I think only a few minutes passed before the Necropolis was drenched in blood as it was so many times before.

I almost wanted to laugh... the irony...

Anyway, the Paladins had military advantage but the Cultists had numbers. In the end they were pretty well matched. The Necromancers weren't maniacle madpnoies in pajama robes waving knives around; they were highly skilled Necromancers; they wore armor and wielded master smith quality war-scythes and combat-scythes.

It felt so disillusioning to watch the two small armies tear each other apart. Soon, undead began climbing out of their graves; the ones that hand't yet been fed the sacrifices still screaming in their cages including myself.

The undead joined the fight and dogpiled the Paladins the whole thing was like watching some epic fantasy movie play out before my eyes.

And then, one of the Paladins shattered the lock on my cage; he shephereded us out and guided us around the battlefield. But all this excitement, all this chaos... all this restless dead...

Well... how could you NOT wake up? Or at least, partially wake up. I heard a lot of stuff from those Cultists... if you wake up... if you _truly _awaken... this world ends. But it takes you a while to wake up all the way doesn't it?

And while you're partially awake, stirring in your sleep; you can still be lulled back into a complacent rest with a story.

...

...

...

Isn't that right Grotimnos?

...

...

I felt it... I felt it when you stirred in your sleep... the entire ground of the Necropolis shook. At first, everypony thought it was an earthquake... But no... this was something much worse... and much less... natural...

Your hand jutted out of the ground. The Necropolis split open; the dirt and graves flew in all directions as your hand and forearm, void of any flesh, muscle or blood shot out into the sky; your fingers ending in sharpened bone looking like curved claw-like blades.

Youre arm was... impossibly huge. the bones of your forearm took up a circumfrance that occupied 1/5 of the entire Badlands... do you have any idea how massive that is to us ponies? To us tiny insects? You could hold an entire city in your hand!

And that's all that appeared... just your hand and forearm; the hindge of the elbow acted as the base wedged amongst the soil and now disturbed corpses that had been burried beneath layers of dirt and dead bodies.

Bones piled around your arm; undead awoke and crowded around you; the... the Dreamers as the Cultists called them... the walking dead huddled around you and leaned against the bones of your forearm, snuggling in an almost... loving fashion. Some leaned against you; others stood by you and looked away threateningly at the living; as if in defense of you.

I was... mesmorized... I... I couldn't... I couldn't think... I couldn't speak... I... I just didn't know how to react quite honestly...

And then the Paladins began fighting you. They slammed against your bones. Well, some did... others began screaming and grabbing their heads. Even some of the Cultists did. They went insane.

I almost did too. I looked up and saw your hand, flexing among the heavens as black clouds swirled around it. I screamed. My vision blurred. I quickly averted my gaze. Just in time too.

The Paladin next to me went mad as he gazed upon your physical form. He took his sword and slammed his head onto it splitting through the skull as steel met his brain. Well, on the fifth attempt any way. His rebeated headbutting would have been funny if not for the tip of a sword standing in absence of a table.

Your hand took notice of the puny mortals beneath you. You held out your palm and a black sludge the circumfrance of a pony dripped in a long line of slimy efluence at breakneck speeds until it touched the soil below. There; in thinned and streamed until the single line of goup was a series of black strings like those upon a marionette. The central goup at the bottom of the strings fell away and a skelatal bipedal pony with hands stood up; the black sludge fell off leaving stanied old yellow bones covered in splotches of black.

The strings from your hand guided it forth like a puppet towards one of the Paladins who held up a sword in defense. The skeleatal pony ignored the warning and stepped immensely close.

The pony swung its sword; but the blade passed through as if hitting air; he blinked in stunned confusion until the skelatal pony held a bony clawed finger forth; the tip of the bladelike finger poked the Paladin's forehead... after a few moments; he fell to the ground. Dead.

The other Paladins panicked; some even considered retreating. But that plan was halted as the bone and zombie hands of dead Dragons, Griffons, and Diamond Dogs jutted out and grabbed the Paladin's hooves, holding them in place.

In this part of the world where all magic both arcane and clerical was nil, they had no way to command the dead to call forth the divine light of their goddess to protect them; they had only their blades which were proving less than competent and cutting through the flesh and bone of these new stronger undead. Ones from deep beneath the earth...

Ones that sleep close... to you.

The Paladins were helpless... they fell, one by one.

The undead became restless; as you began to awaken, so too did the undead Dreamers that who's bones had long since been picked clean by worms and time. The Dreamers went mad; as your hand flexed in a more agitated fashion; as the Angel of Death that you summoned moved more quickly to administer his reaping touch to all those present, now attacking both Paladins and Cultists alike. It.. .it spiraled into pandamonium.

The undead attacked anything in sight that had a pulse.

The Necromancers and Paladins forgot their fude in liew of this new grave threat. They fought; they killed a few of the corpses... but in the end; they fell. How could they not? With a Reaper and a near limitless supply of undead soldiers who feel no pain nor fatigue.

In the end; the smart Cultists rushed to the cariges and unhinged the yolk from the Wyverns before riding them out of the Necropolis. The Paladins had long since been erradicated. The Necromancers who stayed were ironically killed by the undead. And then... there was nopony left... except... me... and the other sacrifices... huddled at the edge of the battle...

The undead saw us... and they ran. Oh they ran with such unholy speed. I thought zombies were slow?! These things were sprinting like proffessional athletes! Their ungodly growls and screechs of rotted vocal cords rang out into the night.

I ran; I turned and I sprinted as the other sacrifices stood petrified with fear. I didn't call out for them; I didn't go back. I ran. I heard them scream as the undead horde reached and killed them. And then it was just me.

The only living thing in the city of the dead. That's what Necropolis means you know... city of the dead. It's not the literal translation; techinically it means graveyard, cemitary, burial ground, etc. Usually a very very large one belonging to an ancient city.

But I think this is what they really meant... a city of the dead... homes replaced with blank gravestones...

I couldn't run forever... but they can... the dead never run out of stamina; they don't eat, they don't tire, they don't die.. .and the don't sleep... not anymore...

Not while you awaken.

And then... when I ran out of breath and energy; I tripped; I tumbled, and fell at your hooves...

There you were... out of nowhere you appeared. Not the true physical you; but an avatar, just an image that only partially exists in this universe. I can touch it, my hoof poked through yours, it phazes through but I can feel the incredible cold where your body should be...

Yes... you are real... but not completely... this... confuzes me...

But my puny mind wasn't meant to comprehend something impossible like you.

I shakilly stood up on all fours and took your appearance in. You stood on two hooves; upright like a bipedal creature with hands instead of forehooves.

You wear a white leopord skin robe just like the Cultists. Your coat is a mixture of a rotted red flesh hardened like that of a Lich; combined with the sleek black chitin of a Changeling. I see red socks covering your hooves and remember the ones that the Cultists wore... and then it hits me.

Your clothing... that of your avatar identifies with the dead. With He Who Sleeps Among the Dead.

I'm guessing that the red socks cover hole riddled hooves and legs like those of a Changeling... upon your back stretches the fluttering insectoid wings of a Changeling. You look like... like a half-bred abomination.

A Unicorn horn sits atop your head, long and sharp like the Princess' and your pony eyes beare crimson diamond shaped pupils. Just like the brands etched into the heads of the Cultists.

I... I am terrified of you. You stand 10 Hooves tall and an unnatural cold radiates from your body that chills my blood.

And then... worst of all; you squat down in an eagle perch; bones and dead cartlidge cracking as you go; your mouth opens wide, unhinging like a snake's And there inside the darkness of your gullet are two glowing red diamond shaped rubies. They extend from your mouth attatched to the head of a skelatal snake; sitting in the diamond shaped eye sockets.

The bone snake scrunches up to the left and right as more of its body extends from your mouth. At last, the snake pauses with its fanged mouth inches from my face. My eyes shake in their sockets as my heart thunders in my chest.

And then... you spoke through the snake's lipless, and toungueless mouth.

"_ssssstttooorrryyyy... tttteeeeelllll mmmeeeehhhhh aaaaaaaaahhhh sssssstooooorrrrrryyyyy..._"

Your voice resonates as if ten ponies are speaking at once; all of them with strained voices like they're being choked. An unholy wind blows over my face as you speak. My ears fold back and I try to make myself as small as possible.

Your bonesnake follows me to the ground even as I curl up and begin shaking.

You repeat yourself, "_tttteeeelllll mmmmmeeeeehhhh aaaaaaahhhhhhh sssssttoooooooorrryyyyy... nnnnooooooowwww..._"

Your voice makes me shiver even more; it carries a sense of extreme wrong with it and... a hint of... impatience? Like that of a whining foal demanding a toy.

And then it all clicks... you're just... you're just a little foal...

You're so huge... and so powerful... you command life and death like it's a game; a graveyard becomes your army on a whim, and you can kill with a touch...

You're a god of death... but... you're just... just a child...

Tired... and cranky... I almost feel... I feel...

...

...

...

Responsible for you... I don't know why... but... I suddenly forget my fear; I stand up, and I sand up on my hind legs; wrapping my forlegs around you. This time they don't go through you; they make contact with solid matter.

The undead behind me stop.

...

...

And then... I tell you a story... I tell you _this_ very story... alll starting with...

...

...

It was cold...

...

...

I let go of you; I land back on my hooves and smile up at your decayed rotting form.

And I feel an almost... motherly attatchment to you...

The undead fall to the ground; tired... sleeping... Your giant arm retracts into the ground leaving a whirlpool of soil and graves to emplode into the crater you left.

...

...

...

Everything's back to the way it should be..

...

Heh...

... I gues...

...

..

I Kinda saved the world huh?...

...

...

...

I think your voice... it... changed me... ever since I heard you speak I've felt a strange tingly feeling all over... especially around my fetlocks. I look at the ground and see blood pooled at the ground. Yeah... it's like... it seeped out like my skin was a sponge expelling water...

My body feels cold. And hard. My skin is like stone.

I can feel fangs where there were teeth... I ...

What did you do to me? I... am I... did you make me undead? Am I a Dream?!

I Am! I'm a Vampire!

I CAN SEE INTO THE ETERNITY OF THE VOID! DEATH IS REALITY'S DREAM!

PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE GROTIMNOS! PRAISE HE WHO SLEEPS AMONG THE DEAD! PRAISE THE SLEEPERS!

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

I'm not a Vampire...

...

...

...

I'm insane.

...

...

...

...

...

...

My fetlocks feel tingly because they're bleeding...

...

...

...

I tore out the veins in my wrists with my teeth...

...

...

I can taste my own blood on my lips...

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...

...

...

...

...

I'm committing suicide... and I wasn't even aware of it...

...

..

...

...

...

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Madness...

...

...

...

...

Everything is just...

...

Madnes...

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Death...

...

Death is all there is...

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...

...

...

Isn't that right Grotimnos?

...

...

Life is just a dream...

...

Death is when we awake up and truly live.

...

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I'm Cold...

_Shhheeeeehhhhhh dddrrooooopppeeddddd... tttooooooo tthhhhhheeeehhhhh ggrrroouuunnnddddddd..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_sssshhhheee'ssss ddeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhdddd... ssshheeeeeee iiiissssss dddeeaaaahhhddddd..._

_I... .._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_I... ... ... llliiiiiikkkkkeeedddddd... ... ... hhhheeerrrrr... ... ... ..._

_Ssshhheeeee... tttoooolllldddddd... mmmeeeehhh... aaaahhh... sssstoooorrrryyyyyy..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_IIII aaahhhmmmm ttiiiiirreeeeddddd..._

_..,._

_..._

_..._

_ggooooddnniiiiigghhhhhtttt_

Review if you liked.


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